


Get out of my Mind

by AwatereJones



Series: Mind Me [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Fear, M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 23:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18271283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwatereJones/pseuds/AwatereJones
Summary: So, Gareth's BDay so you get the first ENTIRE section that introduces our new Verse. Mind control, BDSM inferences and angst play out here.





	1. Chapter 1

_3am, Bedroom, Apartment, Chelsea, London, England_

Oh so gently, not to wake him, he pulled back the bed sheet and slowly eased his legs apart. The cool night air teased naked skin and pumped his senses on high alert. Delicious, pulsing excitement built against his thigh _… he's here, he's here!_

Eyes tight shut, breaths shallow, limb as ragdoll limp, Ianto faked sleep, desperately wanting to peek through lashes, but it was too risky. Within the stillness of the dark room he could make out the soft rise and fall of measured breaths, and feel the heat of cold, calm eyes burning into him. The devastatingly handsome Jaccob Hayes was standing over his bed, silent, broody, menacing, leisurely taking in the view of his exposed body.

_Click, click._

He'd brought his camera.

A chill went through Ianto, instinctively he wanted to grab the sheet and cover up, but could not move for fear of losing him.

_Click, click._

Silence.

He waited, and waited… _what is he doing?_

The sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothes falling to the floor… _shit, he's undressing!_

His heart pumped, his hips intuitively tilted upwards, inviting… _no, no, no… calm, don't blow it…_ he masked the movement, pretending to shift in his sleep.

More silence… _now what?_

He quietly begged… _touch me… please… just touch me…_ the anticipation killing him. His breathing started to labour, a soft slapping, chafing of skin on skin, building in speed, he let out a low back-of-the-throat groan… _he's wanking, he's standing over me and wanking._

He fought the urge to smile, to sit up and take him in his mouth _… wait._ Jaccob moved to the end of the bed and leaned forward; the mattress dipped as he crawled up between his legs and knelt between thighs, the tingling warmth of his skin brushed Ianto's. Ianto wanted to wrap his legs around his hips and pull him onto him, but instead he lay still, feigning non interest, feigning sleep… _wait._

Jacob stretched up to the window above his bed and slowly pulled back the curtain, careful not to make a sound. A yellow streetlamp glow bathed the room, highlighting the curves of his beautiful body, he knelt in silence, staring, for what seemed like an age, driving Ianto nuts… _do something damn it, do something!.._ He silent-screamed.

As if he could hear, he leaned forward and tenderly trailed strong, agile fingers the length of Ianto's inner thighs, easing them further apart… _oh my god_. His hips lifted in reply, every morsel of him being ached for him to be inside him. Ianto was hard, very hard. He had been waiting for this contact for so long … kept waiting so damned long.

The bed creaked with warning as he lowered his head to blow warm teasing air onto Ianto's pulsating dick. His breath caught _,_ longing pulled at his stomach… _oh fuck_!

Blood pumped his organ to the point of pain, he hummed as he eased cheeks apart, his fingers leaving the hole glistening, twinkling at him to enter.

"I know you're awake," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse.

"Don't move, keep your eyes closed… you're going to like this."

He dipped his head and opened his mouth as Ianto moaned and his wrists started to bleed as he strained against the restraints that held him.

.

.

.

.

.

_Visiting Room, HM Belmarsh Prison, South East London, England_

He wanted him dead and he wanted him naked, in his bed.

Why? It was sick, irrational and dangerous. He was a grown sensible man, what the hell was he thinking, craving a man that had tried to kill him? It was all fucked up. The doctors said the mind control might never fully let go, the drugs and mind manipulations still lingering in a most unpleasant way but he knew he had to do this. Had to try.

The judge had acknowledged his schooldays at the academy were to blame, as a boy he'd had to deal with atrocious acts at the hands of his guardians, resulting in his actions as a man. Ianto understood this and felt sorry for him, but his childhood had nothing to do with him, it was none of his damn business, why the hell should he have to suffer his wrath, be on his death list? Hadn't he killed enough?

Noted, he could have handled it better, he should have taken his adolescent obsession seriously, talked to him, realised what was happening and stood up for him… a mere child himself, but someone may have listened, there must have been bruises and marks on his body to prove it. The "what ifs" fuelled his guilt and anger, ten years later the ripple effect of the abusers" actions still caused pain.

Torn between fearing the man and sorrow for the boy, he'd spent the months since his arrest in emotional limbo. Ianto wasn't sure what'd happened in the three 'lost' days of his kidnap, but the tables had turned, he now wanted him, missed him, and dreamed of him. He'd somehow become trapped in his warped infatuated world… was he going mad?

Enough! he needed to face the bastard and excise his perverse hold, take back control, build a normal relationship with a normal human being and have a normal life; if such a thing existed… _he's just a man for chrissakes, nothing special… get a grip!_

Squirming uncomfortably in a hard prison-issue bucket seat, he suddenly didn't feel quite so brave. Anxiously crossing and uncrossing his legs, he picked at invisible dirt on his black suit, the one he saved for funerals and bank manager meetings… _I can't do this… I'm not ready… he's not "just a man" he's Jaccob Hayes, a stunningly beautiful fucking psychotic killer that I can't resist, that wants me to pay for his fucked up childhood._

A wave of clarity washed over him, he shook his head _…_

_this isn't going to work, I've got to get out of here, ignore the letters, ignore the dreams, move out of the country and forget him, seeing his face will only bring it all back... stronger, shit!_

He spun round to tell his lawyer that he had changed his mind, too late, a key turned noisily in its lock, the heavy door of the connecting room squealed open, his guards and chatty lawyer fell silent.

Unable to look, he kept eyes down, focusing on a loose thread in the cuff of his trouser leg. Jaccob had arrived; even through partitioned perspex glass he _felt_ his presence before seeing it, powerful, carnal menace _…_

_fuck, here we go again._


	2. Chapter 2

Pulling at the thread, a row of stitches burst open… _ok, deep breath_ , _calm, don't let him get to me... breathe._

In deafening silence, Jacob's towering frame filled the doorway. He was a perfect specimen, all Hollywood face, head high, chiselled jaw, strong neck, chest out, legs apart, muscled arms, broad shoulders, pumped torso, flat stomach. He stood tall, was proud of his body and knew very well how to parade it. All eyes were on him, except Ianto's.

Even with shackled wrists and shabby prison scrubs he oozed oober calm, cool magnetism, an exciting promise of imminent danger and mind-blowing sex. He stood in the doorway, watching, face void of expression, shackles jangling, predator senses scanning his surroundings, sniffing the air.

He lifted his face, looked down his regal nose and inhaled, the pungent smell of onions and urine hung in the warm recycled air. His eyes flashed to the red flickering lights of microphones, his head tilted, listening to muffled prison noise crackling from wall-mounted speakers.

Ceiling cameras whirred overhead, he looked up into a lens and gave a slow salacious wink, enjoying the attention; it was his turn to be watched, to be filmed, he would give them a show.

His eyes finally rested on the handsome Welshman who sat waiting for him, he caught his breath, keeping balled fists tight against stomach, he resisted the childlike urge of a triumphant air punch… his angel looked stunning… _he's here, he's here… yes!_

As per usual he assumed control, he remained in the doorway staring at him through the glass, refusing to move until he looked up and acknowledged his presence.

The room fell quiet as the guards and lawyer waited, curious for Ianto's reaction; they knew what this monster had done to him. He was either very brave or very stupid to face him again.

His lawyer had strongly advised against the visit, Jaccob was dangerous, scheming and unpredictable. His sizeable inherited wealth gave him power, both inside and outside prison walls. But Ianto refused to listen, the man haunted him, after months of sleepless nights he needed to face him, unhook his talons and find out how to stop the vivid dreams, the incessant longing, and the feelings of guilt. The lawyer shook his head, it would be a mistake.

Ianto sat quietly, head bowed, staring into his lap, he'd started the mind fuck games already, it was pointless resisting, he knew his modus operandi all too well.

Ianto's heart thumped loudly _… surely everyone can hear it?_

Taking a deep breath, he masked nerves, steeled his face and looked up into the eyes of the man that owned him, the man that wanted him dead, the man whose body he craved… _moth to the flame._

Dark provocative eyes were waiting, he'd foolishly opened the door and let them in, they twinkled at the connection and pierced straight to the back of his head… _gotcha!_ … paralysing, searching out, rummaging through senses, taking control.

He recognised this hypnotic gaze; he'd used it to calm him during the abduction _… the abduction_ … it sounded strange; things like that didn't happen to him, they happened to other people. Ianto was a successful, carefree, man about town before Jaccob (B.J.), he had a good job, a fun, simple life and slept well at night.

A flash of intimate memories streamed into his mind, he shook his head … _fuck him for doing this to me, and shame on me for allowing it_ … time to put an end to the stupidity.

Swallowing hard, he wiped sweaty hands the length of his thigh and took a deep breath, stilling the thump in his chest… _he will not break me… not this time._

Jaccob watched him, the edge of his lips curling into a cat-got-the-cream grin, he was a mess, on the verge of tears, trying hard to keep it together, his dominance had been re-established _… oh how I adore you Ianto Jones._

He stepped through the doorway into the visitor's room, followed by two guards. He looked healthy, tanned and cheerful, nothing like the pale, broken, repenting convict he was expecting _... what is this place, a bloody holiday camp?_

Faking calm, Ianto watched him saunter towards the chair in front of him and settle leisurely into its seat. Typical Jaccob, he took his time, enjoying all eyes on him.

Ianto's forgotten how intimidating he was, his threatening air and mocking grin unnerved him, crushing what little composure he had. He eyed his shackles, doubting their strength, wanting to run for the exit, but his legs froze, paralysed, invisible tentacles bound tight; he couldn't move _… fuck, fuck, fuck… this is a bad idea._

Killer and prey sat staring at each other through the flimsy glass partition.

He'd obviously been pumping iron whilst inside, his body pulsed as strong as an ox… an image of him naked, pushing him against a wall, flashed his mind. He caught his breath, blushed and looked down at his hands… _shit, shit, shit… he's doing it again. He's in my head._

Jaccob smiled; he could read him like a book. He sprawled back in his chair and calmly surveyed the scene before him; four burly prison guards, a rotund, sweating lawyer and the beautiful Ianto Jones. The love of his life, sitting all prim and proper, butter wouldn't melt. He sniffed the air, locating his smell as it seeped through from the connecting room.

Why hadn't he come to him before, when he needed him, all those years ago, bent over the master's desk, his body torn in two _… why?_

He sighed, no matter, he's here now. These past months, locked up, he'd missed him; he'd been his obsession for over ten years, his every waking, sleeping, living thought. They had a bond, in life and death Ianto was his, he was Ianto's, Ianto just hadn't got used to it yet.

Watching Ianto had been his life's work, it had kept him alive. He knew every inch of him, what he smelt like, tasted like, felt like, and knew the tiny sound he made at the back of his throat as he entered him. He loved every detail, every movement, every gesture, he knew him by heart. He watched him now as his body stiffened… _did he disgust him?_ His eyes hardened.

Sniffing the air he smelt fear, his cock lurched.

He knew Ianto was resisting, but that made it all the more exciting. He could do patience when needed. He sat quietly, observing, staring directly into his eyes. Ianto fought it at first, but then succumbed. His breathing calmed and his body stilled, he had his full attention.

Staring into his face _… there!_

He saw it, the black of Ianto's pupils dilated to treble their size _… attraction… ha! I have you, my angel… Jaccob is back and you still love him… ha!_

He smiled, Ianto may have been out of physical reach for the past few months, but the mental hold was still there, he was his, he was going to enjoy this visit.

Relaxing further into his seat, he let his legs fall open, all the while keeping eye contact, he dropped his hand to his lap and cupped his cock, giving it an encouraging tweak, ever on the verge of arousal it, leapt to attention.

Heady palpable sex pulled at Ianto through the glass, he flinched with shame and turned away. This man had tried to kill him, he should be spitting on him right now, not watching him get a hard on; he wanted to climb up onto his lap _… the bastard._

How can you fear and want someone at the same time? Hypnotism, drugs, brainwashing.

_What has he done to me? He's a killer for chrissakes, what the hell is wrong with me?_


	3. Chapter 3

Ianto closed his eyes, rocked his head back and took a long slow calming breath _… focus, it's only a man… with a few issues… well, more than a few issues, murder is a little serious… but he had good reason, I would have done the same… urrgh, who is more deranged, him or me?_

The room fell silent, waiting for Ianto"s reaction.

The four bulky wardens on guard, two behind Jaccob and two behind Ianto, stood attentive, backs rigid, arms crossed, legs apart, silently waiting for any sign of trouble, stealing cursory glances at the classy long-legged man in the black suit. He was not the norm for His Majesty's Belmarsh; it seemed lover boy Jaccob had taste.

Warden Jamesy was not, standing, seething, behind Jaccob he assessed his competition… _so this is the bitch he's obsessed with, the name he calls out in the night._

He gave Jaccob a warning punch to the shoulder, knocking his hand away from the semi lob, resisting the urge to reach down and grab it himself. As with everything about Jaccob, his cock was impressive, and Jamesy had seen enough cocks in his time to know, the prison showers were a daily peep show.

He looked over at _the bitch_ ; he didn't have what Jaccob needed, what the hell was he hold over him?

Ianto looked up to find Jamesy inspecting him. The two guards behind him sniggered, he glanced back to their grinning faces, not understanding the joke, he looked over to her lawyer for support, the overweight, sweaty little man was standing at the door hugging his briefcase, anxious to leave… _he said this was a bad idea_ , _he was right._

Ianto had arrived with brave intention, but the moment he saw his handsome face and lounge-lizard body sprawled across the seat in front of him, he froze, unable to breathe, let alone string a sentence together.

he knew he was evil, knew what lurked beneath the handsome packaging, he'd experienced it first-hand, but he also knew the energy in his fingertips, the power in his kisses, the incredible feeling of connection as he entered him _… how could someone blessed with so much turn out so bad… could he help him, change him?_

He broke the silence.

"Darling Ianto, it's good to see you, you got my letters then," he beamed, eyes flirting, brazenly scanning his body. "Sorry I can't offer you a drink."

Bile retched at his throat… _the bastard_.

Closing his eyes Ianto was back in his apartment, naked, bound star-shaped to the bed, choking on the red wine being poured down his throat, drowning, fighting for life, his laughter ringing in his ears.

Panic pumped his rib cage, he put a hand on his chest to quieten it … _breathe in, out… in and out._

Focusing on the scratched, smeared glass between them, he forced himself to tune into the sounds of prison; slamming doors, metal on metal, distant cries, repetitive life outside the suffocating visitors" room… _breathe in and out… in and out._

Knuckles clenched tight, he dug fingernails into the palm of his hand, forcing his mind to still, to concentrate on the pain _… he can't get to me here, I'm safe_ … _in… and out._

They sat in silence.

Jaccob stared at him, tilting his head sideways as if analysing a rare specimen in a laboratory. He missed Heddington Hall's science lab, his secret haven where he had God-like control, dissecting small creatures that couldn't fight back, a safe place away from the master.

"Ianto, look at me," he teased, soft, seductive, snakelike. "Don't be scared, imagine I'm making love to you… you know… how we used to… I promise not to stop till you are shaking… go on, imagine… go there, for just one itsy bitsy second baby… you know you want to."

Unable to meet his stare Ianto lowered his eyes and fidgeted in his seat _… fuck!_ He picked at the thread on his cuff, loosening it further, stitches rippled open with ease. For a nanosecond he went there, his face and neck flushed.

He smiled, nothing had changed, he had control, and he was still _his_ angel.

Giving a cocky I-told-you-so glance to Warden Jamesy he snapped into chatty, jovial Jaccob, as if old friends meeting in a bar.

"So come on, tell me… how are you? Have you missed me? What's the goss? How's your sister, Solo, Michael? It's been a while, but my goodness we had fun, didn't we?" he beamed.

Memories of the three days they spent together were hazy, distorted by drugs and the mind games he'd played. Brutal one minute, tender the next, frightening yet romantic, gushing love, yet wanting him dead… _wanting him dead,_ three little words that filled him with fear, because Jaccob always got what he wanted.

On that final day, what if his friends hadn't gate-crashed his apartment, what if they had arrived moments later? He shook his head, denying access to the image. He would have opened his body with the ease of lab rat dissection.

Now, listening to his smooth low voice, watching his mouth and following his hands, more images began to surface, skin on skin, fingers caressing, tongues searching… he shook his head chasing them away. Slamming down shields he didn't know he had the strength to create.

"My, my… we had fun," he smiled, reading him. "You're a screamer."

He flushed pink, a stifled giggle came from the guard standing behind him.

Another image flashed his thoughts, Jaccob, naked, kneeling between his bent legs, knees at his ears, bearing down on him, his face distorted, about to come, pumping hard, shunting his body up the mattress. Ianto gasped at the force of the image, tried hiding it by shuffling his chair and clearing his throat. But he caught it and nodded, all knowing.

Chateauneuf-du-Pape," he whispered softly. "I "I would offer you a delicious glass of know it's your favourite."

More memories cascaded, suffocation, panic, the taste of bile, he couldn't breathe. Putting a hand to mouth he swallowed back the acid rising in his throat.

"But we don't have that vintage in here darling Yan," he reached out as if to touch him.

Ianto snapped back in the chair, its metal legs scraping noisily on the stone floor, wardens stepped forward ready to pounce. He raised both hands in innocent protest.

"Hey, hey, hey," he soothed, they stepped back.

"Shhh… little one…" he whispered. "Don't worry angel, I can't get to you right now, I'm a little tied up," extending shackled wrists to the glass, he waved them in front of him.

"But I will… I will," lowering his voice, barely audible against the hiss of the speaker. "You will taste me again, have no fear."

Ianto stared into his eyes, a memory of leisurely running his tongue the length of his gorged cock crashed his thoughts, he turned away, subconsciously wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, licking his lips, and he could taste his kiss.

_Was he using words to trigger memories?_


	4. Chapter 4

He was right, they were not over. Prison hadn't changed anything, he could still haunt him. He would never be free. Anger flashed his face… _how the fuck dare he_.

Jaccob noticed the change in Ianto's demeanour, raised an interested eyebrow and waited, he loved it when he fought back. But unable to hold his nerve, his eyes flickered and looked to the floor, he laughed.

"I am addictive, aren't I Yan… hard to resist," his eyes shone with amusement, his half-smile calm and controlled.

"It"s ok, don't worry, I know, it's been like that all my life," he sighed. "People just can't get enough of me," he turned towards Warden Jamesy.

"Isn't that right Jamesy boy?" he sneered. "People can't get enough of this," he grabbed his cock and balls and yanked on them, laughing at the power his sex gave him.

"It's the luck of the draw, but of course you've got to know how to use it… and this," he flicked his tongue backwards and forwards across his front teeth. "Men with big cocks tend to get lazy, thinking they've brought enough to the table, but it's not enough, they have to know how to satisfy… it's a fine art, and I was taught by the best… those with small cocks get it, they work harder, have more tricks up their sleeve… don't they Jamesy."

Warden Jamesy stared straight ahead, seething. His fellow guards sniggered. Jaccob and Jamesy's sex life was the talk of the prison. Jaccob liked to fuck in places where others could watch. It was obvious that Jamesy was besotted with the strikingly good-looking inmate, and also obvious that Jaccob merely saw him as a useful asset to ease prison life. Another pawn mind controlled so easily.

Jamesy wasn't the only hot blooded male at Belmarsh that shared Jaccob's affections, but he didn't know that. There were benefits to being a prison warden's sex toy, as with being the master's special boy; benefits he knew how to manipulate to his advantage. It always amazed him how gullible people were; see a pretty face and they'll do anything to bathe in its shadow, have a big cock and they'll do anything to sit on it. Sex equalled power.

Having Jamesy and Ianto in the same room was a turn on, the jealousy would get Jamesy all riled up, they would fuck hard later, on show of course, dogging a favoured pastime in prison.

"Why didn't you reply to my letters? You should read the stuff I get from besotted fans, wackos who can't resist my charms. Some visit, sit right there in the same chair as you, claiming undying love, offering their bodies, marriage… Vanessa is the worst, pathetic really," he smiled.

A pang of jealousy flushed his cheeks, he wasn't the only one… _why the hell would I be jealous?_

He shook his head _… the man's a fruitcake, they are welcome to him._

"I tell them it's no use; there's only one body I want to make love to."

Jamesy shuffled noisily from foot to foot, not enjoying what he was hearing, the noise interrupted Jacob's flow. He looked up at him, fuming.

"Oh, for fucksake Jamesy, we FUCK, we don't make love, Savvy? Buck up and grow some," he spat, the guards sniggered some more.

Turning back to Ianto, he smiled, waiting for his reaction.

Confused, he stared blankly at him and then at the guard, computing what had just been said, another unwanted pang of jealousy.

he'd forgotten he was so sexual, that he and Solo had been lovers… _but this is a good thing, isn't it? surely he'll leave me alone now with a zillion inmates and fans to entertain._

Jaccob held his eyes and let his mouth fall open, his tongue ran the edge of his teeth. Ianto remembered that mouth, that tongue, and its enduring ability to swirl sweet intense circles over his helmet, taking him over the edge. The memory pulsed his prostate, he crossed and re-crossed his legs… _god damn this man._

He nodded, knowingly.

_How does he do that?_

_he's using triggers to control my thoughts._

Jaccob raised a finger to the partition and slowly traced the outline of Ianto's face, gently stroking the surface of the glass as if caressing him. He turned away, more memories flooded in, he knew what those fingers felt like, they had an electric touch that skimmed his skin with tingles of pleasure _… fuck, fuck, fuck… I must stop fucking swearing!_

No matter how much it disgusted him, the sex had been consenting, not taken, not forced, not rape… hell, he'd begged him for it. The evil murdering bastard had made love to him, and he'd let him, over and over. The drugs and mind control making him think ….

A flashback of the murder scene pictures flashed his thoughts, blood, dissected skin… his stomach heaved. All those deaths and he had been next? Despite Jaccob's declarations of love Ianto knew deep down he would have been in that pit under the building sooner or later as well.

"I know you want me," Jaccob whispered, so softly he could barely hear him, he read his lips.

"You do want me, don't you Ianto, you're getting hard, I can sense it," he beamed. "Your neck flushes pink when you're horny."

Ianto's hand subconsciously went to his neck, it was warm, and he shook his head.

The lawyer shuffled behind him, yanking at the collar of his shirt and realigning his tie. The intensity getting to him, he was unsure whether to interrupt.

"But it's love I need Ianto not sex, that can be bought on a street corner… I never get love… you know, real love… only when I'm with you," his voice softened. "I feel it… you love me… we are good, you know it… you make _love_ to me."

He closed his eyes, forcing images of their entwining bodies to the back of his mind, mustering the strength to speak.

"N… n… no, no," he stammered, shaking his head. "That's not true."

"Aha, finally he speaks," he mocked, clapping his hands like an eager child.

"It's called "love" Ianto… and when a man is in love he puts up with all kinds of shit, just ask any, husband, wife, father, mother, lover, sister, brother, mistress… people have the strength to forgive, protect, rebuild... to do anything… if they love."

"N… no, NO," Ianto shouted. "This is bullshit… why can't you just leave me alone?"

As if flicking a switch, his face turned dark.

"Why?" he spat. "Because you're mine, because you're on my list... because I love you, because you love me, because if I can"t have you, no one else will.… but now, NOW," he shouted, anger bubbling. "Your interfering friends have been added to that list, it will all take longer. You silly, SILLY boy for getting those fucking idiots involved, they will have to die also."

He stared at him in horror.

"I'm gonna be such a busy boy when I get out," he sneered.

"Two minutes," barked Warden Jones.

Ianto jumped.

Jaccob laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

"A little nervous aren't we Yan, you need to relax more," he sat back to survey him, savouring his unease.

"You're sick, you're locked up, you're not going to kill anyone, you've done enough killing… and I'm not yours… besides you have him now," he looked up at Jamesy, willing for him to take on the gauntlet of Jaccob's love. "You're happy here, so what the hell do you want with me?"

"Urghh! There you go again, getting all suburban on me... I like beautiful things, so shoot me," he scoffed. "I like you, man and boy I've liked you, but of course you know that, I wrote you, remember?" pressing the side of his forefinger against puckered lips, he eyed him like a piece of art.

"But I must say, you're looking a bit peaky Yan… you've let yourself go, and still wearing black I see, your wardrobe never was very imaginative, now was it."

"It's a darn sight better than yours," he muttered, sub-consciously running hands through hair and smoothing down his shirt. "Scrubs are so last year… where'd you get those, scrubbers R us?"

He laughed at his attempt at humour, and leaned in close to the partition.

"Ahhh don't worry, I still loves ya…" he smiled, drawing a large heart in the dirt of the glass.

The guards became alert, eyes followed his hands. He kissed the tip of his finger and placed the kiss in the centre of the heart. Watching Ianto's reaction through splayed fingers, he slowly opened his hand and pressed it flat against the glass. Ianto didn't see it at first; finally the large black letter Y henna painted into his hand came into focus, the cross of the T stretched the width of his palm, its grotesque devil-forked tail trailed down, wrapping itself around his wrist. He recoiled in shock.

With a half-smile, he whispered. "You see, I keep you close my darling Yan…" lowering his hand, he cupped his burgeoning cock, giving it a seductive squeeze. "This is my wanking hand, I think of you when I play with my co…."

"Time's up Hayes," snarled the guard behind Ianto, opening the door for him to leave. "Lieutenant Jones, time to go."

"Ahh what a shame, just as we were warming up," he sighed, leaning back in his chair, open legged, brazenly showing the extent of his hard-on beneath flimsy scrubs. A dark stain of pre-juice seeped from the tip of his cock, through the material. "Lieutenant? Oooo, kinky."

The lawyer gasped, unable to hide his admiration.

"Good bye Angel, see you soon, we have some unfinished business…" He stood and stretched, thrusting his hips at Ianto's eye level, his cock knocking the partition… _the bastard!_

Ianto snapped, leaned forward and spat at the glass, covering the view with saliva. He spat again and again. His two guards moved forward, ready to pull him out of his chair.

Warden Jamesy yanked Jaccob towards the door, he checked the design on Jacob's hand, and threw it down in disgust, pushing him out of the room. But Jaccob wasn't finished yet, he turned back and shouted through the spittle sullied window.

"I so had you begging for more, remember?" he sneered. "You do remember Yan, don't you, our nights together?"

Ianto stared up at him… _how could he be so bloody arrogant?_

"No!" he shouted. "No I don't … that's why I came here…"

He stood and leaned into the glass. "… to make sense of it all… but it was a mistake, you just like fucking with people's minds, you're sick, a mental case and NO, we won't be seeing each other again, because quite honestly Jaccob, you weren't that good… I've had more memorable sex with my left hand."

Ianto's lawyer sniggered, nervously. Jaccob's malevolent face whipped around, stopping him in his tracks.

"Having to drug someone to get fucked, is SO not a good sign Jaccob, if you were any good at all they would gladly do it sober, you're pathetic, rape is for losers… for dickheads that are SO disgusting, SO repulsive, they can't get it any other way than stealing it."

"It was not rape, and you know it… you begged me to fuck you," he snapped back. "But the sex is not the thing, you silly, SILLY boy, I can get that anywhere, anytime," he grinned, flashing a "come hither" pout at the guard standing behind him. The guard winked back. Jamesy caught the exchange and tried not to freak out. "It's the control that rocks my boat dearie… don"t you get that yet?"

"Control of what exactly, a lifeless, defenceless, drugged body? Where's the turn on in that? You may as well date in a morgue." Ianto roared, galvanised now.

"The mind, my dear, control of the mind, you spurned me, left me to those pigs, to pass around like cheap meat… you turned me down, but pretty soon I had you falling in love with me, had you eating out of my hand, begging me to take you… I still do, don't I angel, you're here aren't you? You can't get me out of your head can you? Thoughts of me just keep going round and round… I get you… you're a sexual creature, I know what buttons to press and how hard to press them… I'm good and you know it… you're hard right now."

"Fuck you, FUCK YOU JACCOB," Ianto slammed his fist on the glass. "What did you do? Hypnotize me, brainwash me, what, WHAT? The master was bloody years ago, grow up, its history. I'm truly sorry he abused you, and yes he deserved to die, but it's time to move on… drugging and forcing yourself on someone makes you no better than him… you're repeating history, repeating the pattern, the old bloody cliché of victim becoming abuser, poor old Jaccob, grow up and break the pattern, you're bigger than that, it's pathetic!"

Jaccob glared at him, this is not what he had envisaged.

Ianto hadn't finished.

"You're sick... control… control… don't make me laugh. Who's in control now Jaccob?" he spun around, pointing toward the exit door.

"Where… where are you going?" he was not so clever now.

"Who's walking out of that door, you or me? Who Jaccob, who?"

"Times up Lieutenant," ordered his guard. "Leave now please."

"… and stop writing the letters… I'm leaving the planet anyway, I won't get them."

Jaccob did a double-take, his heart sunk.

"Wh… wh… where are you going? With who? You can't," he stared aghast. "I won't let..."

"LEAVE NOW please Lieutenant Jones," the guard interrupted.

"With pleasure… go rot in hell Jaccob fucking psycho Hayes."

"Oh I'm sure I will, much more fun down there," a fake smile covered his anger.

"But before I do…" Jaccob hissed, yanking his arm free from Jamesy, pressing his face close to the partition, distorting his skin against the glass. "Know that you're mine and that I'm coming to get you, wherever you hide I will find you, and if I have to die I'm bringing you with me."

The malice in his voice frightened Ianto, he meant it, he would never be free of him, and nausea flipped his stomach. "Know it Ianto Jones, know I am coming to get you."

Ianto turned to face him, the thrill more than he thought it would be as he raised his head defiantly to face his personal monster "I am going far enough away that you can never reach me. Never find me and definitely NEVER fuck with me again."

"I doubt that is possible" he sneered with glee "Give it time, you will miss me. You will be back. I will lull you in your dreams and …"

"In space … I will find new dreams" Ianto spat "Out there, beyond the void? You will simply be the shit I scraped from my space boots!"

Ianto turned to walk from the room as Jaccob roared with horror, anger and to Ianto's twisting heart's delight …. Fear?

Ianto teetered toward the door, feeling faint, the lawyer pulled him out of the room; he ran down the corridor and vomited into the nearest rubbish bin. Jaccob's voice ringing in his ears.

Ianto took a deep breath and straightened his clothing with shaky hands. He could do this. He could. He was trained, he was cleared … yeah. Space. Cold. Devoid of anything. Just like him. Out there no one will care that Ianto is damaged. Everyone is out beyond the black.

Without Ianto to play with….

Jaccob was just another monster trapped in a closet of his own making.

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So ends part 1 of "Mind Me" Verse ... Part 2 is still inder construction but you got this for Gareth's Birthday xxxx


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